


Caffeine Chronicles (Or Lack Thereof)

by drmrs



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, in which felicity struggles to not drink coffee, pregnancy fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2020-12-16 18:16:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21040607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drmrs/pseuds/drmrs
Summary: No one loves coffee quite like Felicity but with a baby on the way, she's had to make some changes.(or the one where Felicity struggles to consume less coffee throughout her pregnancy)





	1. Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was supposed to go up months ago but writer's block sucks and I just procrastinate really, really well. It's no longer as timely as I hoped it to be but better late than never, I guess? 
> 
> I was determined to post it before season 8 airs so it's unedited and I'll definitely need to come back to clean it up.

He’d woken up that morning and it was just gone. 

It was a little past seven when Oliver had staggered out of bed blearily, promptly heading to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast. He'd had a long night with only three solid hours of sleep and multiple bruises to prove it. He was struggling to wake up and it’s the only reason why he didn't immediately spot the change. He’s already in the vicinity of the kitchen and had been walking right up to it when he finally notices it's missing.

As soon as he does, he faltered midstep, the burn of his muscles and the twinge of his bruises fading to nothing as he blinked uncomprehendingly at the glaringly empty spot on the counter.

_No. That's impossible._

He stood immobile, just staring at the gap between the toaster and the electric kettle as though if he did it long enough, it'll turn out to be some sort of illusion and the machine would just suddenly reappear. When it doesn't, his heart stuttered, his mouth going dry as the world seem to narrow down to nothing but himself and that empty space where the coffee maker - _Spock_ \- used to be. Some part of him knew it’s stupid, knew it’s an absolutely ridiculous reaction considering the life he’s led and the amount of danger he’s faced, but he knew all too well just how much Felicity loved the damned thing. Plus, his wife could be absolutely terrifying. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with genuine fear and panic that choked him.

It started out as an inkling that she probably treasured her coffee maker based solely on the fact that there’s no one that loved coffee quite like Felicity does. However, it turned out that he had severely underestimated the extent of it up until they'd first moved in together when they'd returned home to Starling. He’d received a crash course of just how priceless it was when she’d made him lug it from her apartment to the loft. She’d been adamant against packing it in with her other boxes, not trusting the movers to be careful enough with it - _“There’s no way in hell, Oliver. They’re not going to be careful enough with Spock.” _And so, along with her ridiculous number of boxes filled with heavy electronics, they’d transported them from her apartment where he’d had to personally haul them up box by box from her car and into their loft. That’s not to say that she trusted him with her babies either. She’d gone on to micromanage _how _he carried the boxes throughout the entire journey. It involved a lot of her repeatedly yelling at him to be extra careful. 

When he’d gotten to the coffee maker, she’d given him a full induction of the merits of Spock and the proper way of using him. It’d been her first extravagant purchase after she started working - _“That’s different, Oliver. My tech are _necessities,_ but I wanted Spock_._ I could’ve bought a cheaper coffee maker but that’s just blasphemy_” - and so it held a special place in her heart. It’s safe to say that moving day had been eye-opening.

And so, his immediate, visceral reaction to its disappearance isn’t entirely uncalled for. After all, regardless of whatever caffeine fix she could get sans Spock, Felicity is loyal to the machine and depended on it like a lifeline, relying on it to supply her at least three cups of coffee per day. Plus, Felicity has been slightly more emotional lately due to the hormonal changes and he could only imagine what her reaction would be like.

She’d already started having intense responses to random things, but nothing had been as passionate as when Dr Schwartz had brought up her caffeine intake. She’s seven weeks pregnant and they had gone to the hospital earlier in the week for her first prenatal appointment. While the doctor had gently reminded her of the safe amount of caffeine a pregnant woman is allowed to have, Felicity had reacted passionately to it. Even though she had already severely reduced the cups of coffee she consumed since the doctor first told her she was pregnant, having it said aloud had apparently made it more real.

_Oh. _

Just as quickly as the panic had set in, understanding - and amusement - washed over him. 

He had an idea of what could’ve happened to Spock and it had his wife’s name written all over it.

&&&

He’s almost done making breakfast when Felicity’s alarm goes off. It takes a couple of seconds before the shrill ringing stops and then a couple of seconds longer before he hears her shuffling out of bed and heading for the bathroom. He’s just slid the last of her pancake onto the plate when she appears in the doorway, squinting blearily at him. She’s wearing his gray T-shirt, the sleeve falling off her right shoulder paired with shorts that were so tiny, they were almost entirely covered by the shirt. For a moment, the flare of disbelief and gratitude overwhelms him at the thought that he’s married to the love of his life and that this was his reality now. He never thought he deserves the happiness - he still doesn’t - but he’s definitely going to try to earn it. 

The sight of her yawning brings him break to the present and he offers her a cheery, “Good morning.” It earns him an intelligible grunt in response as she shuffles over to the kitchen, reaching up to rub at her eyes. Oliver quickly deposits the pan and spatula in the sink, knowing he’d want to watch this. He tracks her as she went about her normal routine, beelining right past him towards the counter where he usually would’ve had her panda mug filled to the brim with coffee prepared with the right amount of creamer and sugar. He’s since swapped it for a smaller mug - her second favourite that’s adorned with a Starfleet logo - since he found out she’s pregnant. 

She’s gotten her hands out in front of her before she froze, her body stiffening as she finally notices the empty space where the coffee maker used to occupy. He takes a couple of steps back so he could get a better look at her expression and has to bite back a laugh at the way she blinks rapidly, her brain struggling to catch up with what’s happening. It’s far too early in the morning even for someone as brilliant as Felicity Smoak to be fully functioning, especially a pre-caffeinated Felicity Smoak. She stands frozen for almost a full minute, just staring before she finally deflates with a quiet, “Oh.”

“So, about that,” he says, keeping his tone light and casual. “I wanted to make you coffee first thing this morning but the coffee maker’s missing. Do you know where it went?”

She turns her head just enough to shoot him a scathing look and he grins brightly at her. She seems to contemplate the merits of hitting him but decides against it, huffing unhappily instead. He watches her as she grabs the electric kettle instead, filling it with water and leaving it to boil. She maneuvers past him to grab the Starfleet mug from the dishwasher and a box from the pantry cabinet. Before he could even ask, she’s turning to him. She’s pouting and he opens his arms instinctively just as she falls into him. He doesn’t miss the way her gaze darts quickly to the stack of pancakes behind him and the way her eyes light up for a split second. She snuggles into him, burying her face against his bare chest as her arms coming up around him. She makes a sound that’s a cross between a whine and wail and he wraps his arms around her, gently rubbing her back and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Choosing to let go of the missing coffee maker for now, he focuses on her instead. “How are you feeling?” While morning sickness has set over a week ago, it’d been bad yesterday to the point that she’d had to stay home, the nausea forcing her to take a day off.

“Better,” her voice is muffled against his chest, but he hears her anyway. “I don’t feel nauseous. Not yet, anyway.” 

“Do you want to try eating something then? I made you pancakes.” It’s redundant information because even if she hadn’t already looked, Felicity seems to have developed a radar for sweets. It’s all she craves for lately and while he doesn’t endorse it, she hasn’t eaten a proper meal for an entire day. She’d tried yesterday morning - he’d cooked her eggs for breakfast and she’d barely swallowed three bites of it before she was flying across the room for the bathroom. Her nausea hadn’t gotten much better throughout the day and he’d barely managed to get her to eat some fruits and some granola. He’d give her anything she asked for if it means she could keep it down at this point. 

Therefore, he’d pulled out all the stops today and had cooked her favourite chocolate chip pancakes. He’d set out the maple syrup she loves grudgingly and had even prepared a bowl of cut fruits, keeping it in the refrigerator in the meantime because she loved it cold. He’d set out to make the perfect breakfast for his wife although, of course, it hasn’t exactly gone according to plan. It was missing a very distinctive last component of a cup of her favourite brew made exactly the way she liked it.

She nods against his chest but makes no move to step away from him just yet. He’s not complaining though and simply hugs her closer, widening his stance slightly to compensate for her weight as she leans completely into him. “Chocolate chip?”

He hums in affirmation and she pulls back just long enough to peck him before she’s snuggling back into his chest. He rests his chin atop her head as she uses him as a pillow and they contentedly stayed wrapped around each other, unconcerned about their breakfast going cold. Even as the kettle clicks, she simply shifts slightly in his arms. 

“I got rid of it.”

It takes him a moment to realize that she’s talking about the coffee maker. “Why?”

She sighs, pulling away from him to look down at herself. He follows her gaze, watches her lift her right hand to pat at her still flat belly. “Precious cargo,” she mumbles in lieu of an explanation and her dejected tone combined with the look of absolute sadness and frustration on her face makes him laugh. He’d been right in assuming it had something to do with the prenatal appointment after all. He tugged her back to him to drops a kiss to her forehead.

"You're still allowed a cup," he reminds her gently, knowing well enough that he’s threading through dangerous territory. Her addiction aside, they led a crazy life which meant erratic sleep schedules and more often than not, it consisted of a lack of rest. It didn’t help that she was simultaneously working on Helix and Archer which requires a lot of brain power and concentration, something that regular caffeine fixes helps her with. But he knows better than to even suggest her slowing down on either fronts. “You didn’t have to get rid of the coffee maker.”

“I did,” she moans, “One cup is torture, Oliver. _Torture. _It’s like giving me a sample of one of the best things mankind has ever discovered and then telling me I can’t have it. And it’s not like it’s out of reach. I could get it _everywhere, _but I really shouldn’t. It's like the adult version of the marshmallow experiment except the delayed gratification is stupidly long. Don’t get me wrong. I love our baby already and of course I want to make sure he’s healthy and safe but it’s _just so_ _hard._” She stretches out the last word and it tapers off into sobbing noises. “You don’t understand just how intense my cravings are, Oliver.”

“I’m pretty sure i have an idea,” he says teasingly, opting to lighten the mood mostly because he knows this is one of those problems where he can’t help her with no matter how much he wishes he could. “You _did _make me get gummy bears for you at 2AM last Friday and then had me pick out all the yellow ones for you even though they all taste the same.” 

“No, they don’t!” she retorts, affronted. “But do you know what i crave for the most, Oliver? _Coffee. _I love coffee. It's the nectar of the gods. An aphrodisiac and stimulant for my brain. But it's restricted goods. That just makes it all the more tempting. It doesn’t help that Spock is _right there_. It drives me insane.” She releases a long exhale. “So, yes, Oliver, I had to get rid of it. I have no self-control when it comes to coffee and the headaches just makes it that much harder."

With a disgruntled sound, she pulls away from him and opens the box she’s set out on the counter. He doesn’t know what to say and instead just wanders closer to her. Curiously, he watches as she grabs a teabag from the box and drops it into her mug, pouring hot water over it. He picks up the box and examines it, the corner of his lips curling up into a smile as he reads what’s written on it.

“Pregnancy tea?”

“It’s supposed to be good for me,” she mumbles, moving around the island to drop into the chair across from him. She sets the mug on the island and pauses for a moment to eye it distrustfully, as though deciding whether it would poison her. 

She’s quick to avert her attention to the pancakes though, her eyes lighting up as she drags the plate stacked with the food closer to her. Grabbing the fork and knife he’s set out for her, Felicity transfers three of them from the pile to her own plate before reaching for the bottle of maple syrup. Clamping his mouth shut, he watches as she pours a generous amount over her stack, practically coating the entire surface of it. He’d hoped that even if she did reach for it, she’d at least consume it in moderation. He should’ve known not to get his hopes up. 

He grabs his plate of eggs but doesn’t start eating yet. Instead, he leans against the counter, content to just watch her eat. While he knew morning sickness was a normal occurrence, he couldn’t get over how useless her felt watching her getting sick while not being able to do anything to help. The relief that washes over him is palpable as he watches her demolish the pancakes, showing absolutely no hints of slowing down just yet. Once he’s assured that she wouldn’t be running for the bathroom this time, he rounds the island to sit next to her, starting on his own breakfast.

She’s eaten at least half of her pancakes before she reaches for her mug again. While she eyes her tea with disdain, a thought suddenly occurred to him. “How’d you even get the coffee maker out?" The machine was on the heavier side and the thought of her lugging it out of the house makes him scowl in disdain. But just as quickly, the answer clicks in his mind. “Digg.”

She nods absentmindedly, casting one last dubious glance at the tea before tentatively taking half a sip. He huffs in amusement when she immediately pulls back with a grimace, setting the cup back down on the counter and sliding it away from her.

“He helped me move it out yesterday,” she confirms. 

Digg had dropped by to check up on her in the afternoon while Oliver had been stuck at a meeting with Dinah and Pollard at SCPD. Oliver had asked the man for help considering he was the only one out of their friends who knew Felicity was pregnant. Digg had dropped by as a favor, although when Oliver had told him Felicity was dealing with severe morning sickness, the man had wanted to check up on her anyway. 

“You made Digg what, exactly? Throw it out?” 

She whips around to face him, looking at him as though she couldn’t believe what he’d just said. She’s never quite glowered at him like that before and he shifts on his stool uncomfortably. “Are you insane? Of course not! I’m not going to throw away Spock.” She pauses to take a couple of deep breaths as though to summon all the patience to deal with him. When she continues, the hysterical note to her voice is gone. “I made Digg hide it.”

She says it as though it’s the most obvious thing to do and it suddenly makes sense why Digg had given him a withering look when he had met the man in the bunker afterwards and why one of the bruises on his thigh was in courtesy of his own friend from a sparring session instead of one of the thugs they’d fought last night.

“Why didn’t you wait until I got home? I would’ve moved it for you.”

She sighed. “I had to get it out of the house right then. I asked Digg if he wanted anything a drink like any good host would when he came by and of course he chose to have coffee because he knows Spock makes the best and he was out to torment me. It smelled _divine _when I poured him a cup and I wanted to top up my own but of course Digg _had_ to remind me that I shouldn’t be drinking too much caffeine.” She shrugged nonchalantly but couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. “So, I told him to take the entire machine away with him when he left.”

That probably meant Digg had gotten an earful in her loud voice. He winces just thinking about it.

“You could’ve just had Digg move it into one of the cabinets,” Oliver said tentatively, “I’m sure we have more than enough space to store it in the meantime.” 

She narrows her eyes at him. “That’s what Digg said too. But I’d _know _it’s still in the house and you can bet I’ll find it. I’ll somehow figure out a way to get it plugged in to a nearby power source and then it would've been a pointless effort. So elsewhere. Out of sight, out of mind. It’ll be too much effort trying to find it and Digg will never let me know.” She pauses, a thoughtful look covering her face. “I’m pretty sure he has it hidden in the bunker somewhere though.”

While a little convoluted and excessive, he could understand where she was coming from. Felicity depended on coffee unconsciously at this point, reaching for a cup even before she’s fully thought about getting one. Even before she was pregnant, he’d had to watch her on hectic days to make sure she didn’t drink too much. So, yes, he could understand the extreme measures.

However, when she looks over to him, he still doesn’t manage to school his expression in time. “Oh, shut it, Oliver,” she snaps and he’s chuckling before he could stop himself. “I can see you judging me. I know I’m acting like a crazy pregnant lady but you know I have no self-control around coffee.” She releases a breath, averting her gaze away from him. “I know I’m still allowed some coffee but having Spock here is additional temptation I don’t need. I can’t get rid of all the coffee shops in Starling but I can do that at least.” She pauses and her voice turns quieter. “Everybody kept telling me I drink too much caffeine anyway. So, maybe this is a good opportunity to fix that. Yep. This is a good thing.” He’s not sure if she’s trying to convince him or herself. “It’d be good for the baby and i promised Dr Schwartz I’d try to go without caffeine anyway.” So softly he could barely hear her, she continues, “I just… want to be a good mom and this shouldn’t be so difficult, you know? It’s just the beginning.”

“You already are,” he says quickly and resolutely, reaching for her hands. It’s a thought he refuses to let her entertain. “You’re amazing with Will and you’re already trying your best with Mia.” She takes a couple of seconds to think on it before nodding, squeezing his hands in thanks. 

“I never thought I'd live to see the day you let that coffee maker out of your sight,” he teases, earning him a snort and a noise of assent. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll make mistakes and learn from them. We’ll do this together.”

She sniffled, raising their intertwined hands to press her lips against his knuckles. She looks up at him with a small, fond smile. “It’s Lucas.”

“Hmm, we’ll have to see about that one,” he laughs, leaning over to kiss her. 

“I need to find another alternative though.” At his questioning look, she shudders and glances at her mug in disgust. “Pregnancy tea tastes _so_ gross.”


	2. Withdrawal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I know I took forever and I'm sorry. 
> 
> Life got a little hectic and I was just unhappy with this chapter? I rewrote it three times and I still don't know how I feel about it. Ugh. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for all the love on the previous chapter!

Oliver’s on his fifth rep when he decides it’s gone too far and he should probably save her from herself.

It’s almost eight in the evening and they’re in the bunker, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. In the meantime, Felicity had started working on a couple of algorithms while he had opted to train, practicing with the escrima sticks against the training dummy. For half an hour, they’d been studiously working on their respective tasks - him building up a sweat while she enhanced the security system. And then Rene had walked into the bunker.

Oliver noticed it immediately. He’s gotten so attuned to the sound of his wife working over the years that the moment it changes – her consistent typing suddenly becoming stilted - he looks up to check up on her. Oliver watches as every now and then, Felicity would cast glances to her left, her typing faltering before picking back up when she averts her attention back to her monitors. Frowning, Oliver had followed her line of sight to where the conference table was, trying to figure out what was going on. It’s usually near impossible to tear her attention away when she’s coding and with how distracted Felicity was? It had to be something significant.

But Oliver didn’t immediately see anything out of the ordinary. He lets his gaze sweep over the area one, two, three times and is just about to ask her what’s going on when it finally clicks, the laughter bubbling out of him before he could stop it.

Felicity was staring at Rene. Or, more specifically, she couldn’t seem to stop staring at the large to-go Jitters coffee cup that Rene had brought in with him and had been taking intermittent sips from as he scrolled through his phone, oblivious to the audience he had.

Oliver had found it amusing at first. He elected to watch his wife, leaning against the dummy as he waited to see just how long it’ll take her to shake herself out of it. But as the seconds turned to minutes and Felicity seemed completely entranced - her gaze lingering on the coffee for longer periods of time up until she finally gave up all pretense of working and opted to blatantly stare instead - it became evident that Felicity’s coffee craving has taken precedence over everything else.

It’s been a week since Oliver had woken up to find Spock - their coffee maker - missing. On that very same night, he’d realised that the coffee maker in the bunker - affectionately named McCoy - had suffered the same fate when Dinah had emerged from the pantry, asking what had happened to it. He’d turned to Digg - thinking he might’ve had something to do with it - to find the man already staring at him questioningly. The two men had switched tracks and focused on Felicity where she sat at her workstation, her typing never faltering and her face remaining impassive as she simply declared, “It broke.” 

Felicity had been adamant about not consuming coffee for the next seven months that in addition to the missing coffee makers, she’d even given away the stash of her favourite coffee beans, handed over her Jitters membership card over to Oliver for safekeeping and stored away her favourite mug.

Oliver had inadvertently given up on coffee because of Felicity and while she might’ve insisted that he’s still free to drink the beverage if he wanted to, Oliver wanted to support his wife. Well that and because he wasn’t entirely sure if she’d meant the sentiment. Even Digg has stopped drinking coffee whenever Felicity was around, knowing better than to tempt her. Unfortunately for them, they’ve apparently forgotten to consider the fact that the remaining members of their team were painfully oblivious and could just_ bring _coffee into the bunker.

While Felicity has extraordinarily managed to go an entire week without caffeine, Oliver knows the littlest of temptation could break her resolve at this point. Her craving for coffee has gotten so much worse that she’s almost constantly thinking of it. And while she might’ve said that he didn’t have to give up coffee with her, Oliver knows he’d made the right call from the intensity of the stare she’s directing at Rene.

Unable to help himself though, Oliver had dropped the escrima sticks in favour of the salmon ladder purely to see what it would take to catch his wife’s attention. It’s right in her view - something she’d made sure of when they’d first set up the bunker - and even though it’s been years, him on the salmon ladder has never failed to catch her attention. He’d even made a spectacle out of the workout, letting the bar clang against the hooks loudly and going harder than necessary - moving through the reps quicker until he’s breathing harder than usual and has a sheen of sweat over him. He’d even stripped off his shirt and yet, Felicity hasn’t so much as glanced in his direction.

Now, Oliver laughs quietly to himself, dropping to the floor with a quiet thud. He pauses just long enough to grab a towel to wipe the sweat away from his face as he walks over to his wife. Despite knowing it’s pointless, he makes an effort to make his steps audible as he climbed the three steps up to the raised platform to warn her of his approach. 

He says her name just as he reaches her, stepping right up to her as he slings the towel over his left shoulder. When it doesn’t work, he repeats her name louder and shifts even closer, brushing his fingers lightly against her arm. She startles slightly at the movement but doesn’t immediately pays attention to him.

He waits patiently for a couple more seconds before she acknowledges his presence. Even then, she responds with an absentminded hum, turning her body and chair slightly in his direction although her gaze remains transfixed, her eyes tracking the cup as Rene picked it up and brought it to his lips. Regardless, Oliver counts it as a win that she even heard him at all.

He huddles closer to her, leaning forward so he could speak directly into her ear to avoid the risk of Rene overhearing him. “You’re staring,” he says, the amusement bleeding into his tone.

“Hmm? Wha-” When what he’s said finally catches up to her, the rebuttal comes swiftly. “No, I'm not.” Her voice is a little too loud and Rene looks up at them questioningly. Felicity is quickly to avert her eyes back to her computer, pressing a string of keys as though she hasn’t just been caught staring. She can’t hide the blush that spreads across her cheeks and down to her collarbone though and Oliver chuckles quietly.

Rene eyes them suspiciously for a moment before reverting his attention back to his phone with a shrug while Felicity continues tinkering with her computer. Oliver might not know anything about coding but even he could tell that she's just keying in gibberish.

She’s written three full lines before she notices that he still hasn’t moved away from her side. “Oliver, wh- _Oh._” She’d been turning to him but stops speaking abruptly when she comes face to face with his torso. He watches in amusement as her eyes widen and her hand unconsciously reaches out for his abs. He’s slick with sweat but she evidently doesn’t care from the way she firmly presses her palm to his skin, just above the waistband of his pants. 

He grins. “My face is up here, Felicity.”

Clearing her throat, she straightens in her chair as she tilts her head up to look at him. When she speaks, he doesn’t miss the way she’s slightly breathless. “Hi. Shirtless. Why are you shirtless? And you’re sweaty. Why are you so sweaty?”

His grin widens at the surge of words even as she winces. He tilts his head in the direction of the salmon ladder and her gaze follows the movement. She blinks repeatedly, her eyes darting from him to the salmon ladder and back to him for a couple of times before it finally settles on him. "The salmon ladder?" At his nod, she opens her mouth although no sound comes out. Her eyes dart to the salmon ladder one more time before she whimpers, her face contorting to one of grief and regret. "You went on the salmon ladder for the first time in 32 days and I _missed_ it?"

A breathy laugh escapes him. Of course she would remember how long it’s been since he’s trained on the salmon ladder. "You've been too busy staring at Rene's coffee to notice." 

If possible, she looks even more forlorn and he laughs, leaning closer to press a kiss to her forehead. He pulls back just enough to meet her eyes, dropping his voice. "If you stare any longer, he's going to notice, Felicity.”

She opens her mouth as though ready to argue but seems to think better of it. “I wasn’t being _that _obvious.” At his quirked eyebrow, she grumbles under her breath. “Well, it’s not my fault Rene’s flaunting his coffee.” Her gaze darts back to the man in question and her expression turns contemplative and slightly wistful. “What do you think he’s having, though? A latte? Wait, no. He doesn’t seem like a latte kind of guy. Maybe an americano or just a plain black coffee. Or, _oh!_ He could be having a mocha! Have you seen his chocolate stash in the fridge? It almost rivals mine.” She focuses back on Oliver to find him smiling indulgently at her. “How could we not know what type of coffee Rene drinks anyway? He has coffee in the bunker all the time. Doesn’t that seem like basic information we should know about our teammates?”

“Felicity.” 

She groans, flopping back into her chair and Oliver has to grip the armrest to prevent her from skidding away. “I don’t know why I thought getting rid of the coffee maker would mean no one would tempt me in here. _Everyone_ in this bunker consumes coffee daily. I should’ve known taking McCoy away wouldn't have been enough.” She pauses and purses her lips. “Do you think we could have a coffee ban?” 

He can’t help but laugh outrightly this time. “I think that’ll be a little suspicious, hon.”

She pouts at him and he simply smiles at her, brushing his hand up her arm to rest on her left shoulder. She reaches up and squeezes his hand, offering him a small, sad smile before turning back to her monitors. 

“I really should get back to work. I need the systems to be up before you go an- oh, it looks like Rene’s done with her coffee.” Oliver follows her gaze to see that while Rene is still sitting at the conference table, the coffee cup is absent. Felicity sighs. “Bye, Jitters. Till we meet again.” 

He smothers his laughter by pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as she resumes typing. This time, she has absolutely no problem focusing back on her work and Oliver lingers around her for a while longer, content to just be around her.

When he finally heads back to the salmon ladder almost an hour later after he’d sparred with Digg, Felicity can’t stop sneaking glances at him, much to his delight and the chagrin of their teammates.

&&&

When they finally make it home almost seven hours later, they’re both exhausted. What should’ve been a straightforward takedown of one of the Ninth Circle’s weapons suppliers had turned out to be a trap instead. While the team had made it out mostly unscathed, it’d been more work than they had anticipated. 

The moment the door to their apartment clicks open, Felicity beelines straight for the couch, pausing only long enough to tug off her heels and dropping them haphazardly on the floor as she went. Oliver takes his time, shutting the door before tugging off his own shoes and placing it neatly on the shoe rack next to the door.

Felicity flops onto the couch unceremoniously, moaning in contentment. “Oh, _thank god._” Oliver watches with a small, affectionate smile as his wife maneuvers herself into a more comfortable position, stretching herself across the entire length of the coach as she uses the armrest as a makeshift pillow. With a sigh, she closes her eyes and sinks into the couch, completely boneless.

In a newfound habit, she reaches up to caress her stomach even though there isn’t a bump yet and the surge of emotions it brings about leaves him slightly breathless. He knows the move is probably unconscious on her part and he should probably point it out to her. It’s a dangerous habit - one that could give them away easily considering they're not planning on telling anyone else just yet - but he just really couldn't care less. Every time she goes to touch her belly absentmindedly, it overwhelms him with such joy, awe and utter disbelief that this is real that he never wants her to stop. She's absolutely stunning like this and he's powerless to do anything except to just soak her in.

"Are you just going to stare all night?" He startles slightly at the sound of her voice. He doesn’t know how long he’s been looking at her but when he looks up at her, she’s smirking with a knowing look on her face at having caught him in the act.

Something in his face must’ve betrayed the depth of his emotions though because she immediately softens, her smile widening as her eyes shine with affection. She holds out a hand towards him, wiggling her fingers to urge him closer. “C’mere.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He makes quick work of grabbing her shoes and placing them neatly next to his before he crosses over to her in three strides. He takes her outstretched hand once he's close enough and intertwines their fingers together. He leans down to kiss her just as he reaches to her side and Felicity immediately arches up to meet him halfway.

She sighs against his lips, tilting her head upwards as her right hand reaches up to the back of his neck, keeping him there. What he intended as a quick peck quickly escalates and when they finally pull apart, they’re both panting slightly. She hums happily, keeping her eyes closed even as a serene smile settles on her lips. Oliver can’t resist pressing another chaste kiss to her lips before he straightens. “Are you hungry? Any cravings?”

She scrunches her nose as she considers his question before shaking her head. “Mm, no.” 

“Okay. Do you want to go straight to bed then?”

“No,” she moans. “Don’t wanna move.” 

Oliver smiles as he squeezes her hand. “I can carry you to bed.”

She pauses to consider it. “No.” She tugs on his hand. “Later. Stay wit’me.” She starts to scoot down the couch, her movement slow as exhaustion wears her down. Oliver immediately understands what she wants him to do but he hesitates. He considers protesting for half a second; With how tired they are, they should just head to bed because they’ll probably just fall asleep on the couch. But when she opens one eye just enough to look at him, it spurs him into action. He moves to sit down on the spot she’s just made for him, lifting her head just enough to slide beneath her. He cushions her head on his thighs and Felicity sighs, sinking back into the couch.

He brings his hands to her head, pressing his fingers into her temple. “How’s the headache?”

"It's a little better now." She makes a happy noise at the back of her throat as she tilts her head further into his hands. He presses his thumb a little harder into her temple and the moan she releases is almost sinful.

Felicity’s been having nearly constant headaches due to the caffeine withdrawal. She’s been nothing short of amazing though and have powered through them. They’ve since realised that Felicity trying to work while having those headaches only seem to exacerbate them, but she refuses to take paracetamol unless it was absolutely necessary. 

Today had been the second time she’d given in. The stress of an ambush coupled with the sound of continuous gunshots had worsened the pounding in her head to the point that she was wincing when the team had made it back into the bunker. He’d approached her quietly with the pill in hand as the team was getting ready to leave for the night and she’d paused to consider it before she’d grudgingly downed it with a glass of water. 

Regardless of how difficult it's proving to be to remove caffeine from her diet though, Felicity remains determined to stick to it throughout her pregnancy. While Oliver admires her tenacity and wants nothing more than to wholly support her, he hates the idea of her in any sort of pain. It didn’t help matters that it’s avoidable, a fact that even Dr Schwartz had pointed out, gently reminding her that it wasn’t necessary for her to completely restrict when they’d called the doctor asking about caffeine withdrawals. 

On the second day she’d gone without caffeine, Oliver had reached his limit of not doing anything to help her. It’d been when he’d tried suggesting she eased off on her workload at least until the headaches subsided but that - unsurprisingly - hadn’t gone over very well. While he knows there really isn’t anything he could do and the decision is ultimately Felicity’s, he can’t quite get over the need to at least try to help his wife.

One particular suggestion Dr Schwartz had made had stuck with him and he’d spent the entire week mulling it over. Felicity had just gone past it as though she hadn’t heard the doctor and Oliver wouldn’t be surprised if she genuinely hadn’t. He knows it’s something that Felicity wouldn’t even begin to consider as an option, but he couldn’t stop thinking that it’ll make a viable compromise.

"I know you don’t like it," he starts cautiously, pressing a little harder into her temple with elicits a contented sigh from her. "But maybe having decaf coul-”

Her response to the mention of decaf is immediate. Her eyes fly open and she jerks sideways, displacing his hands from her head. She stares at him with such horror and disbelief that the corner of his mouth twitches. "Wha- Decaf? Did you just say _decaf_? Are you insane, Oliver?" 

“Okay.” He huffs a laugh and reaches for her, gently coaxing her to lie back down in his lap. She resists him for a while, staring at him as though she doesn’t recognize him anymore, but eventually gives in. “It’s just a suggestion, Felicity.”

“No, it’s not. Decaf is disgusting, Oliver. It’s- It’s- It’s sacrilege, is what it is. An abomination.” She grimaces and shudders. “I can’t believe you’d even consider bringing it up.”

“It can’t be that bad.” 

“_Can’t be that-?_” She pushes herself up into a sitting position and maneuvers herself on the couch so that she’s facing him. “Ugh. How could you betray me like this? Decaf is the absolute worst, Oliver. It's just gross sludge that's hoping it could be even one hundredth as amazing as the authentic thing. It's a sham and it doesn't deserve to call itself coffee." 

She’s genuinely upset with him and she has worked herself up into a frenzy but she’s being utterly adorable and he has to bite back a smile, knowing it’ll just aggravate her further. 

"Do you remember the time that horrible barista at Jitters who kept insisting I ordered a decaf instead of admitting that he got my order wrong?"

"I remember," he chuckles. 

And did he ever. It happened about four years ago and it was one of those moments that had solidified the notion of just how seriously Felicity took her coffee. It’d been during the lull after Slade had wreaked havoc in Starling and he was just coming to terms with the fact that his supposed fabricated declaration of love to Felicity might not have entirely been a lie. He'd been hyperaware of her, noticing every single detail and greedily storing every piece of information she’d divulged like a man starved.

She’d been determined to help him get Queen Consolidated back that summer and they’d developed a habit of meeting almost weekly to brainstorm. It’d been both torturous and possibly the best way to spend the excess free time he suddenly had.

On that particular day, they’d planned to meet at Jitters after her shift at Tech Village and Felicity had been running late. She’d rushed into the coffee shop a little over half an hour after they were meant to meet, shooting him an apologetic look as she went straight to the cashier to order her coffee. 

She’d been exhausted and cranky, hair falling out of her ponytail and the anger making her eyes shine brightly. She’d apologized once she’d been close enough for him to hear her, immediately launching into the story of how she was late because a misogynistic man had held her back simply because he didn’t trust her ability to handle his phone. When she had to pause to catch her breath, she’d glanced down at the large mug of latte that she’d been cradling like it was her salvation, murmuring a loaded _thank god_ before taking a huge gulp of it. She’d barely swallowed it when her face twisted into a grimace, her disgust and agitation clearly visible. For a split second, it looked like she considered spitting it back out but swallowed it with a shudder that wrecked her whole body.

Oliver didn’t have the opportunity to even begin asking her what was wrong before she was already halfway across the coffeeshop, stalking for the cashier. By the time Oliver moved to catch up with her, her voice was dangerously bordering on her loud voice territory. The oblivious barista remained impassive, adamant she had ordered a decaf.

It’d been a sight to behold; This petite woman furiously gesturing with her hands as her voice grew louder and louder. Oliver had tried stepping in to deescalate the situation, but Felicity had barrelled right over him.

Eventually, the manager had apologized and given Felicity a replacement coffee and a muffin for free but she’d spent a good thirty minutes afterwards explaining to him how blasphemous decaffeinated coffee is. Even Digg and Roy had received a crash course on why decaffeinated coffee isn’t coffee when they’d gone to the bunker later that day. 

“I still can’t believe he’d think I'd order decaf. _Me. _It’s ridiculous.” She’s never forgiven that barista, consistently shooting him scathing looks whenever she went to Jitters and he was there. It’d gone on until a year ago when the barista stopped working there. 

“It’s been four years, hon.” He reminds her, smiling. 

“Yeah, well, it’s still stupid.” She directs her glare towards him. “You remember that and yet you_ still _suggested decaf? You should’ve known better.”

“I thought that it might be able to help with the headaches.” He shrugs, suddenly having doubts about making the entire suggestion. He never wants her to think that he doubts her or didn’t support her in this, especially considering she’s doing it for their baby. He knows pregnancy had its share of difficulties that he had no power over but he can’t help feeling helpless watching her go through it all without being able to really help.

Felicity surprises him by softening, her eyes lightening with understanding as a small affectionate smile covers her face. She reaches for his hand and squeezes it reassuringly. 

“I know it doesn’t begin to measure up to the real thing-” Her eyes flashes and she opens her mouth, the rebuke on the tip of her tongue but catches herself. She presses her lips together and gestures at him to continue. “And since you don’t want to risk having caffeinated coffee because you think you’ll lose control - although I think you're severely underestimating yourself - I thought decaf could be a good compromise. It only has about 7mg of caffeine per cup so even if you were to lapse, it won’t be as bad.

I figured the headaches are pretty much inevitable considering how much coffee you drank daily.” She huffs. “But I thought some caffeine would probably be better than none. I love you for trying but pregnancy is a feat as it is and I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard.”

She lets go of his hand in favour of cupping his jaw, thumb stroking his stubble. She leans forward and kisses him softly. “I love you. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always.” He pauses. “You know you’d just have to say the word and I’d grab your vanilla latte from Jitters, right?”

She beams at him. “I know. But I think I want to keep trying for now, okay?” 

He nods. “So, that’s a firm no on the pregnancy tea and decaf coffee, then.”

“Ugh, no. They’re prohibited from our household. That was a bold move bringing them up, mister. You’re lucky I love you enough to forgive you instead of banishing you to sleep on the couch like you deserve.”

He grins. “I’m sorry for making such a grave error.”

“You can make it up to me with blueberry pancakes for breakfast.”

“Oh, can I?”

“Yep,” she says, popping the P sound. “I’ll even pretend this entire conversation never happened if you bake me chocolate chip cookies.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She’s drifting now that she’s no longer worked up over decaf coffee. Her eyes flutter to a close as she pitches forward and Oliver guides her so that she rests her head against his shoulder. “The one with those chocolate chunks. You’ve ruined the good old chocolate chip cookies for me.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies dutifully although he doesn’t sound apologetic at all.

“You should be.” She’s beginning to mumble, her voice dropping to almost a whisper as though even talking is taking too much effort.

Oliver reaches up to comb his fingers through her hair and she sighs in approval, turning her head to press her nose against his neck. “Shall we head to bed now?”

“Mm, later.” He knows they’ll probably regret it later but he can’t bring himself to move either. He rests his cheek against her head and closes his eyes just as she curls closer to him. “Ol’ver?” 

“Yeah?”

“I’ll lock you out of all your sports channels if you ever mention decaf to me ever again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> (And may we all survive Season 8)


End file.
